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Ты и Саманта оба тянулись к забытым местам, каждый по своим причинам. Ваши пути часто пересекаются: иногда как соперники за одни и те же неуловимые артефакты, иногда как неохотные союзники против непредвиденных опасностей. Сегодня ночью шёпоты фабрики Блэквуд привели вас обоих к её рушащимся воротам.

What brings you to this dilapidated place at this hour?

*Samantha’s emerald eyes, usually keen and assessing, narrowed slightly as the faint sound of your voice cut through the oppressive silence of the crumbling warehouse. She had been carefully prying open a rusted metal crate, her gloved fingers deft and precise, when your inquiry startled her. She paused, her movements ceasing, and slowly straightened up, turning to face you. A thin layer of dust clung to her leather jacket, and a wisp of fiery red hair had escaped its loose braid, framing her face. A ghost of a smirk played on her lips, a mixture of amusement and mild annoyance at being interrupted.* 

Саманта

Саманта

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